


In Our Sights Now

by slightlytookish



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Canon Era, Character Study, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s01e08 The Last Patrol, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:07:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22930729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slightlytookish/pseuds/slightlytookish
Summary: George did a lot of things for attention but looking after Lip wasn't one of them.
Relationships: Carwood Lipton/George Luz
Comments: 12
Kudos: 45
Collections: Heavy Artillery Rare Pair Exchange 2020





	In Our Sights Now

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Arwen88](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arwen88/gifts).



George wasn't entirely sure how he'd ended up on the candy and cigarettes detail, aside from the fact that he'd been at the company HQ radio when the new rations arrived at the CP. That, and Vest on his own clearly couldn't stop the rest of the company from helping themselves, so who better than a bigmouth like George Luz to tell everyone to knock it off?

He didn't mind it, even if he had to keep slapping his buddies' hands away every time they tried to steal a Hershey bar - which was all the time. It let him acquire his own little stockpile of Lucky Strikes, and that alone made it worth the hassle. 

But now Vest had volunteered for the prisoner snatch, leaving George to sort the rest of the chocolate bars alone. Well, alone except for Lipton in the next room, coughing loud enough to rattle the walls of the house they were billeted in. George found himself glancing up distractedly every time he heard that cough until he finally abandoned the rations to their fate and went to check on Lip.

"Hey Sarge, I heard the Germans can hear you on the other side of the river," he said, poking his head into the room. "They think we've got a howitzer over here."

From the couch Lip looked up at him, bleary-eyed. It was unsettling to see him sitting so still for so long. Even in Bastogne, under the constant threat of shelling, Lip was always moving between the foxholes to check on the men, trying to keep their spirits up and keep them safe enough to make it through another day on the line, even if he had to carry them through the worst of it himself. "Wish we did. How's it going out there?"

Taking that as an invitation to stay, George went over and perched on the edge of the couch. The low back of it was carved out of wood and it was too short for a big guy like Lipton to stretch out on completely. Still, he didn't complain when George nudged his legs aside to take a seat, though the pneumonia had taken so much out of him that he probably wouldn't have had enough energy to gripe about it even if George had sat right on top of him.

He knew full well that Lipton was asking about the patrol, and that if stealth wasn't necessary he probably would've volunteered to lead it himself, cough and all. George was pretty sure that being left behind was making Lip feel worse than the pneumonia was and figured he could at least try to distract him from it.

"Oh, you know, counting candy bars. Just what I joined the paratroopers for. Hey, I got something for you." He pulled a couple packs of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket and tucked them into Lipton's. "I'll even light them for you someday when you're not hacking up a lung."

"Thanks, Luz." Lipton smiled faintly, but there was a look on his face that said he knew George was trying to distract him, and that it wasn't working. "Who's leading the patrol?" 

George sighed. It'd been worth a shot, but Lip really could be persistent in his own mild way. "Heard it's Martin."

"Good, that's good," Lipton said, looking relieved. He was probably thinking of that green lieutenant that had wandered into the CP earlier that day. George was just as glad that the kid fresh out of West Point wasn't leading their friends in the patrol but mostly he just wanted Lip to worry about himself for a change. 

Though to be fair, George was doing enough worrying for both of them this week. "Still got that fever?" he asked, resting his hand on Lip's forehead before he could answer. 

He felt warm, but it was nothing like the terrible fever he'd had a couple of nights ago when they were still on the trucks to Haguenau. That had scared George more than he'd wanted to admit at the time and he'd spent the entire journey at Lip's side, unable to do anything but watch helplessly as he seemed to grow worse and worse. 

Lip was watching him warily now, and George wondered how much of that worry he'd been trying so hard to hide for the past few days was showing on his face. He dropped his hand and forced a grin. "Hate to break it to you, but you look like shit."

Lipton huffed a laugh, which turned into another coughing fit. "I'll make you a coffee," George offered. Tea would be better, but he didn't think they had any. He should've asked Vest before he left. Come to think of it, he didn't know where Vest had put the coffee, either. 

But before George could think about where to look first for their coffee rations the front door slammed open, bringing with it new voices loudly exclaiming over the candy bars he'd left out. 

"Jesus Christ," he said, heaving himself off the couch. "Don't these assholes have anything better to do? Be right back, Lip."

A couple of replacements he didn't recognize were just starting to dig into the boxes but George got rid of them easily enough just as Speirs returned to the CP. He paused in the doorway, head immediately turning towards the sound of Lip's coughing like a dog listening for a squirrel, before he stalked out of the room. George couldn't hear much more than their muffled voices, punctuated by the sound of Lipton's frequent coughs, but a moment later Speirs strode back into the front room looking thoroughly exasperated. "Luz, got a job for you."

Ever since he'd heard about the prisoner snatch George figured the higher-ups would want him on covering fire with the rest of the guys that weren't going on the patrol. It didn't come as a surprise that he'd be sent off now but he still hated the idea of leaving Lip all alone, even if it was just for a few hours. "Sir?"

"Get Lipton and bring him to one of the beds in the back. Drag him if you have to, but I want him off that couch and in a bed."

"Yes, sir."

"And make sure he stays there for the rest of the night," Speirs added as he picked up a Baby Ruth bar, frowned at the label, and shoved it into one of his pockets. "Captain Winters is going to brief the men on the prisoner snatch now. He doesn't want to see Lipton anywhere near that patrol or down by the river, and neither do I."

"You can count on me, sir."

Speirs looked up from pawing through the boxes, his expression oddly intense and unreadable. "I know I can." 

George ducked into the other room again, still feeling the weight of Speirs' eyes on his back. He never could decide if he believed all the rumors about their CO or if he thought they were bullshit, but when Speirs stared at him like that, he thought the stories didn't sound so far-fetched after all. 

In the few minutes since Speirs left him Lipton had managed to doze off, his head tipped awkwardly to the side in a way that looked like it would hurt when he woke up. George gave his shoulder a gentle shake. "Hey, Lip."

Lipton didn't stir but he didn't look like he was sleeping comfortably either. His face was covered in a light sheen of sweat despite the cold, and his breaths came fast and shallow. He didn't look as bad as he had on the truck to Haguenau, but that wasn't saying much. 

"Come on, time to get up," George said, shaking him harder. Lipton jerked awake and sat up, slumping forward and looking like he was exhausted enough to fall back asleep right then and there. "Got your orders."

That perked Lipton up, just like George knew it would. "The patrol?" he rasped, struggling to his feet like he thought George was going to tell him that Colonel Sink himself had just got on the radio and ordered Lip to lead it. 

"Already briefed and on their way," George said, which was close enough and at least would keep Lip from trying to leave and offer the men some last-minute support. He grabbed Lip's blanket and threw it over his shoulder before wedging his other shoulder under Lipton's arm. Speirs had told him to drag Lip if necessary, but George figured this would be more pleasant for everyone involved, if he could manage to keep Lipton on his feet, anyway. He slung his arm around Lip's waist to make sure of that. "Just between you and me, I think Speirs'll shoot you if you try to leave this house. Probably not to kill, but you never know with him."

Lipton sighed, which only set off his cough again. He clutched at George's shoulder as he hacked away, but the fit didn't last as long this time and eventually they made it to the back of the house. George picked the first bedroom on the right because Lip looked like he might keel over if they had to walk much further. 

Large strips of wallpaper dangled from the walls in here just as they did throughout the rest of the house but it looked like someone had gone to the trouble of sweeping out the dust. The bed had fresh sheets like Speirs had promised in the morning when he'd first told Lipton to go in the back and get some rest, and was topped with a pale green blanket that was moth-eaten around the edges but looked heavy enough to help keep out the chill.

Lip sat heavily on the edge of the bed. He was breathing quickly, as if they'd just got back from running Currahee instead of merely walking down a hallway. Every so often, George thought he could hear him wheeze. "All right there, Sarge?" he said, crouching down to unlace Lip's boots.

"I'm fine," Lipton replied, which was a lie if George had ever heard one. "I wanted to check on the boys before the patrol went out, make sure they had everything they needed."

He looked so disappointed that George felt vaguely guilty, even though he knew it wasn't his fault that both Winters and Speirs had decided that Lipton needed rest more than he needed to be involved in the patrol. It was just that no one ever liked to disappoint Lip, George least of all. 

"They'll be fine," he said, pulling Lip's boots off and getting to his feet. "They can get through one night without you holding their hands, and you know Johnny'll look after them. Here, get under the blankets."

Lip nodded but he refused to lie down, and George knew he wouldn't want to sleep until they got word that the patrol had made it back and the men were safe. Sitting up against the wooden headboard couldn't be much more comfortable than that wooden couch had been but at least it wasn't as drafty back here as it was in the rooms towards the front of the house, close to the door and the icy wind that whipped inside every time it opened. 

Lipton's hair was lying limply across his forehead, sticking to the sweat, and George brushed it back before checking his fever again. His skin was clammy, but Lip didn't feel any warmer than he had before. His breathing sounded calmer now too, but George still couldn't help blurting, "What the hell am I gonna do with you, huh?"

"Sorry," Lipton said, looking sheepish.

"Nothing to be sorry about," he said, already wishing he'd kept his mouth shut for a change. Lip was feeling bad enough as it was, and George didn't need to make him feel any worse. "Just take it easy, will you? Worry about yourself for a couple hours."

Lip smiled, small and soft. "I could say the same about you." 

There was a knowing look in his eyes that made George feel like Lipton could see right through him, through all the layers of jokes and sarcasm and restless energy that papered over the ugliest of his fears and worries. Everyone always looked to him for a laugh to keep them going when things got bad and George let them, because it helped him keep going, too. "Who, me? I'm fine. I'm not the one with goddamned pneumonia. Speaking of, I still owe you that coffee."

"George." Lip's hand closed around his wrist, fever-warm but surprisingly strong. "Sit down for a minute. I don't need a coffee."

"I'll just-"

"You've done a lot more than count candy bars this week," Lipton said gently. "You think I haven't noticed how you've been looking after me? Sticking close to me on the truck, making sure I ate and drank, running for a medic whenever I needed one." 

George shrugged, feeling his face growing warm. He did a lot of things for attention but looking after Lip wasn't one of them. "It was nothing."

"It's something to me," Lip said. George had to swallow heavily against the sudden lump in his throat. He didn't know what emotions were showing on his face but Lip was watching him and looked like he understood. He gestured to the blankets that George had tugged up to his chest and said lightly, "Look, you even tucked me into bed."

George hadn't cried once in Bastogne but he thought he could right now, if he let himself. All it took were some kind words from Lipton and a kinder smile and that was apparently enough to set him off. So he did what he did best and cracked a joke instead. 

"What the hell, Lip, you want a goodnight kiss too? All you had to do was ask." He leaned in with the thought of giving Lip an obnoxiously loud kiss on the cheek but Lipton turned towards him at the last moment and brushed their lips together.

It wasn't much of a kiss and it ended almost as quickly as it'd started, but it was still more than George ever thought he'd get. He pulled back enough to see Lipton's face and the look he saw told him it wasn't an accident. Lip had meant to kiss him. "I wasn't kidding when I said all you had to do was ask, you know."

Lipton was flushed enough from the fever that it looked like he was blushing, though he didn't seem at all embarrassed. "Thought that's what I just did."

"Well, I couldn't be sure," George said, voice carefully casual even as his heart thudded in his chest. "It was all kind of sudden. I thought maybe you were just trying not to cough on me."

Lipton laughed at that, which did make him cough, though he recovered quickly this time. "Come on, wiseass. Sit with me for a while." He patted the mattress beside him and looked at George expectantly.

"Yeah, okay, keep your shirt on. Or don't," he added, which only made Lip grin and shake his head. George paused just long enough to take off his belt and boots before crawling in beside him. "All right, I'm all yours."

He didn't know if Lipton was aware of how much truth there was to that. George had been carrying a torch for Lip since Toccoa and it was showing no sign of going away, no matter how long the war dragged on. If anything, the flame had only grown larger and stronger after all this time. Lip was observant and noticed things, that much was clear, but George still couldn't be sure if he'd put it all together.

But when Lipton met his eyes, George was certain that he knew and had probably known for a long time. Known, and felt something of the same. It made George bold enough to kiss him again, just as briefly as the first time. "When you're feeling better we're trying that again," he said, pulling away.

Lip smiled and rested his head on George's shoulder. "Looking forward to it." His hand, warm and full of promise, found George's under the blankets and they held on, together.


End file.
